


Flowers and Forgiveness

by sarai377



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Drama, F/F, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Peril
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 03:07:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5768998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarai377/pseuds/sarai377
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Sumia takes an arrow and falls from her pegasus, Cordelia is wracked with guilt. </p>
<p>Drama with a happy ending. </p>
<p>Sumia/Cordelia, with minor Frederick/Robin</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flowers and Forgiveness

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place some time after their A-Support, but is based more on their interactions from the Harvest DLC. 
> 
> For this story Sumia’s pegasus is called Buttercup.
> 
> I’m also making up a few details between Cordelia and Sumia, that weren’t readily available in their support convos - they were trainees for the Pegasus Knights together for a time, but for whatever reason, only Cordelia was accepted into their ranks, and Sumia fell in with Chrom’s Shepherds. They remained good friends over the years.

Cordelia hovers outside of the room, twirling the cluster of daisies in her hands. She can hear hushed voices within. Even though the door is open, she doesn’t feel welcome. The hall is mostly dark, but golden rings of light fall at regular intervals, flickering in sconces. Her feet make very little noise on the carpet as she paces slowly back and forth, debating if she should go in or go back to her lonely room in the Shepherd’s barracks.

With a bitter chuckle, she wonders if she should find her choice in the petals of the flowers wilting in her fingers as she waits. Her hair falls around her face as she looks down at the white blooms. 

“Cordelia?” a soft voice asks from behind her, and she whirls. Frederick is standing a few paces from the doorway. He looks small without his armor, his simple button-down shirt and slacks tailored and neat as always. In comparison, Cordelia is a mess. She’d stripped off her armor as soon as she’d secured Buttercup and Fleetwing in the stables, but she hadn’t thought to change. Her clothing is still bloodied from today’s battle and her hair is tangled, and there’s an ache in her left arm that she should probably get checked out.

Still, she pulls herself together. She doesn’t want the knight to see the dread and fear tucked deep within. “Good evening, Frederick.”

“Are you going in?”

“I, ah…” she trails off, her hands trembling. “Yes, I just didn’t want to interrupt anything.” It sounds lame and silly to her own ears, but she can’t tell him the real reason she is dallying out here.

He narrows his eyes, and lets the silence sit between them for a few moments. He tilts his head and she shifts from foot to foot.

“She’s going to be fine, Cordelia,” he finally says. She hadn’t expected him to say that, and it surprises her as much as that arrow had.

Frederick takes a few steps toward her, and then her vision of him and the hallway blurs. She blinks fast a few times, casting her eyes down to the flowers. A tear drips from her eyelashes onto the small bouquet.

“Good,” she mutters, glancing up at him. He is close enough that she’s certain he can see the tears hovering unshed.

“Come inside. I’m sure she’ll be glad to see you.” Frederick sets a gentle hand on her back, guiding her to the door. She draws in a deep breath and clutches the flowers tighter, and then she’s peering into the relatively-dim room.

Sumia’s face is ashen, her soft hair spread out on the pillows, tumbling down her shoulders. Her eyes are closed, but there’s a faint smile touching her mouth as she listens to Robin reading from their most recent book. Bandages wrap from the top of her right shoulder and disappear into the sling holding her right arm immobile. Cordelia presses her lips together in a tight line, and it is only Frederick’s insistent hand that moves her further into the room.

Robin looks up from the book, pausing at the end of a sentence. A lit candelabra stands on the table beside his elbow. With detachment, Cordelia sees that he is as disheveled as she is, and he’s still bearing his sword and tome from the earlier battle. His cloak is wrapped tight around him, as if he is cold despite the roaring fire across from the bed. There are heavy, dark circles beneath his eyes, and his normally deep-toned skin looks wan and pale.

Frederick moves to stand beside Robin’s chair, and the white-haired man tilts his head up toward the knight. A smile graces Robin’s mouth for an instant, softening the weariness. Frederick’s hand slips from the back of the winged chair to Robin’s shoulder. 

Cordelia shifts her eyes away from the strangely intimate moment and back to the woman in the bed. 

_ Frederick said she was fine, _ she reminds herself, and sets her shoulders back. She steps up to the end of the bed. 

“Sumia…” she breathes, but can’t continue through the tightness in her throat, the burning behind her eyes.

Sumia’s eyes fly open and her smile deepens, dimples appearing in the middle of her cheeks. “Cordelia!” she cries, and raises her uninjured arm on the other side of the bed. “Come here.”

The invitation brings fresh tears to her eyes and a choked sound from her throat. Sumia is glad for her presence, but Cordelia should have been here much earlier. 

On shaky legs, she staggers over to the far side of the bed and kneels on the blankets, her heart pounding. Without a care for her dirty clothing, Cordelia slides in beside her long-time friend, careful of jostling her. Sumia’s thin arm goes around her, and her hand grips Cordelia’s shoulder tight. 

Cordelia draws in a shaky breath. Sumia smells strongly of soap, but that perfume that Cordelia once complimented her on still lingers in her hair. Cordelia is tense, not putting too much pressure on her injured companion. The hug extends for a few seconds and Sumia’s hand relaxes. 

Cordelia sits up, and then remembers the bouquet. 

“Ah!” she gasps, and reaches for the partially-crushed flowers wedged between them. Her gift for Sumia, ruined. 

“Did you pick those for me?” Sumia asks with delight, slipping her arm from around Cordelia and catching the flowers before Cordelia can move away. Sumia brings them up to her nose and breathes in deeply, eyelashes fluttering down. “Thank you,” she says, lips brushing against the white petals. Her eyes dart up, and they catch the flickering light, practically glowing with delight. 

Cordelia can’t look any longer. 

“I’m so sorry, Sumia.” The words tumble out, racing each other. “I should have seen that archer, I should have taken him out before he got to you, I should have done something-”

“Cordelia,” Sumia says, her tone gentle... _ forgiving _ . Her hand rests on top of Cordelia’s, the flower stems between them.

“I almost lost you!” Cordelia cries, balling her hand on the blanket and twisting out of Sumia’s grip. The wounded pegasus knight’s eyes are wide. “You could have died, and it would have been my fault that my - that you…” Suddenly she realizes she’s shouting. Her hand clamps over her mouth and she squeezes her eyes shut. A flush burns her cheeks, recalling Robin and Frederick’s presence. 

This is why she didn’t want to come in here, to see that trusting, loving expression on Sumia’s face, when every fiber of her being bears this paralyzing pain. It makes her feel even worse. 

“Cordelia,” Sumia whispers again, and brushes Cordelia’s hair back over her shoulder. Sumia tugs gently, and Cordelia eases down against her warmth, nestled in the gentle dip between shoulder and neck. 

Sumia can’t possibly know what went through Cordelia’s mind – all the regrets and fear - when she pitched sideways and fell from her mount’s back. How bad it looked when she lay crumpled on the ground… All Cordelia could think in the instant when she didn’t know if the fall had killed her, was that she hadn’t  _ told _ Sumia...

Cordelia doesn’t deserve this affection, but she takes it anyway. 

Sumia’s fingers twine in her wind-tangled hair, rubbing along her scalp in gentle circles, and that casual, intimate touch, given so freely, makes tears splash down Cordelia’s cheeks. She lets out a little sob, and Sumia holds her tighter. Cordelia’s hand moves up beneath Sumia’s thin frame and grips her shoulder, needing something tangible beneath her. 

Sumia says, “Shh, now, I’m going to be good as new. What happened was  _ not  _ your fault. You probably saved my life, getting me to Maribelle so quickly.” Sumia presses her cheek against Cordelia’s hair as the tears subside. “This is war, and there will be casualties, and we can’t blame ourselves for what happens.” 

“I know,” Cordelia mutters, keeping her face pressed into Sumia’s collarbone. Her voice sounds thick. “I know, but-”

“If anyone should take the blame for this, it would be me,” Robin says. Cordelia glances up at him, seeing that determination in his face. Frederick straightens, and his hand tightens noticeably on Robin’s shoulder, but Robin continues, “I am the tactician. I should have noticed the archers before I sent you two out there. You might have both died.” He glances down at his hands. “She’s right. This is war, and war is not perfect. It’s messy and ugly, and no matter how hard we all work, some of our companions and friends will die.” Robin reaches up and presses his fingers on top of Frederick’s. “All we can do is spend our time with the people we love and care for, and keep fighting to protect them. And… to try and forgive ourselves when things go wrong.” 

With a spark of clarity, Cordelia realizes that she wants that. Her chest feels lighter, more buoyant, hopeful. She craves forgiveness, and yet she rejected Sumia’s… because she doesn’t feel worthy of her own. 

If Robin feels the same way, but he doesn’t find her - or even himself - at fault… then maybe she can forgive herself. 

It doesn’t mean she doesn’t still feel terrible about it, but as she draws in a deep breath and exhales, it feels like a pegasus-sized weight has been lifted from her. The possibility of forgiveness is there, and that is enough. More tears build up in her eyes, in relief this time, and Sumia squeezes her shoulder. 

“I… see,” Cordelia says. “Thank you, Robin.” 

Robin tilts his head, and then nods, seeing that his words have had the desired impact. He rises, setting the book aside. “I think we should take our leave now, Frederick. I’ll be back to check on you in the morning, Sumia.” 

“Thank you for all your help,” Sumia says cheerfully. 

Frederick ushers Robin from the room, and there’s relief in the knight’s stance as he glances over the room once more. He gives the two women a faint smile, and pulls the door closed behind him. 

Silence falls around them, a stillness brought from years of familiarity. Robin’s words have seeped into her, easing away some of that anguish. Cordelia relaxes beside Sumia and lets her emotions float away, content for a few precious seconds to enjoy her closest friend’s company. 

After a time, Sumia draws in a breath. “How is Buttercup doing?” 

Cordelia glances up at her. “She was understandably upset, but she made it home with no injuries.” 

Sumia closes her eyes and smiles. “Ah, good. I was so worried about her, until I heard you’d brought her back.” 

Cordelia watches her for a few moments, sucking idly on her bottom lip. Sitting here with Sumia reminds her of their years as trainees - humid summer nights spent out beneath the stars, talking about the assignments they would someday complete, the accolades they would receive. 

It also reminds her of more recent times, of sitting side by side at night, before the campfire, bodies brushing together as they recount the near misses and triumphant saves of their most recent battle. There is a comfort in their history together, the shared experiences that brought them to this point.

Something that Robin had said keeps circling back in her head. “ _ All we can do is spend our time with the people we love _ .” Her whole body flushes with heat, and she suddenly suspects that Robin phrased his words intentionally. Despite the fact that she’s never told a soul, she wouldn’t really be surprised if he knows that Cordelia is falling for Sumia… hard. 

Her heartbeat seems too loud in her ears, so heavy she’s certain Sumia can hear it, but the moment passes unnoted. 

Cordelia reaches for the bouquet, turning the less-damaged flowers to face Sumia. Sumia reaches out to tug one of the flowers free of the ribbon, twirling it by the long stem between her fingers. 

When Sumia fell, when Cordelia thought she was gone… Cordelia had felt empty. Not an emptiness from lack of emotion, but a vast gaping feeling, as if her heart had been torn from her chest and shredded. Agony had seared through her, laced with adrenaline, and she’d vaulted from her pegasus and fallen to her knees beside Sumia, yelling for Maribelle at the top of her lungs. 

It had crystallized something in her mind, something that she realized much later as she was soothing Buttercup in her stall. 

Cordelia knows about missed opportunities. She’d pined after the prince for so long that when she finally joined with his militia, she couldn’t bring herself to tell him. There hadn’t been a chance that he would feel the same way about her, the new recruit, and she had never attempted to establish a connection… but with Sumia, it is different. 

She won’t let this opportunity slip away. If Sumia died in their next battle Cordelia would regret not telling her forever. If telling her hurts their friendship, if it makes things awkward between them… then so be it. 

Cordelia draws in a deep breath. “Sumia, I have something to tell you.” 

“Oh? What is it?” Sumia’s mouth parts the slightest bit, her smile fading. 

“This isn’t easy for me to admit, but I feel I should - no, that I  _ need  _ to tell you.” Cordelia blushes, and ducks her head. Her wind-blown hair shields her. “I - I’m in love with you,” she informs the daisies.

The flower twirling in Sumia’s fingers stops and then falls to the blanket.

“Cordelia…” Sumia says, and her voice vibrates through Cordelia, sets her nerves aflame. 

Cordelia peeks through her scarlet hair, ready for rejection. The wounded pegasus knight reaches out and tucks Cordelia’s hair behind her ear. 

Pink coats Sumia’s cheeks and the top of her nose, and there’s a small smile perched awkwardly on her mouth. “Truly?” 

Cordelia nods, almost dizzy with anticipation. “Yes.” 

“I…” Sumia looks like she’s going to cry for an instant, and then she grins. “Cordelia, I love you too!” 

Cordelia’s jaw drops open as Sumia catches her slack hand and twines their fingers together. 

“I had no idea you felt the same for me,” the brown-haired woman admits, her thumb rubbing across a knuckle. She glances up from beneath eyelashes and bangs, and Cordelia leans toward her. 

“May I… kiss you?” Cordelia asks breathlessly. 

Sumia nods quickly, and Cordelia focuses her attention on those soft-looking lips. Sumia’s hand releases from Cordelia’s and rises, burying itself in her hair, pulling her close. Sumia closes her eyes and purses her lips slightly - 

They bump noses. Cordelia chuckles as Sumia’s eyes fly open and more pink darts across her face. 

She takes Sumia’s chin in her fingers and tilts her head. 

Those lips are softer than she’d imagined, as she brushes against them. Sumia gasps in delight, and pulls her closer, deepening the kiss. Cordelia moans as Sumia’s tongue flicks out between their mouths, and then she reluctantly draws back. 

A tingle floods her lips, and she licks them with the tip of her tongue. She doesn’t want to hurt Sumia, and she’s afraid if they go much further, she might accidentally jostle her. Sumia understands without needing any explanation, and relaxes her hold on Cordelia’s hair. They settle back into the bed, Sumia with a little grimace that makes Cordelia glad she stopped when she did. 

The room feels warmer and cozier than before, and as a log cracks in the hearth, Sumia raises the one lone flower separated from the bunch. 

“Help me pick a fortune,” Sumia suggests, resting back against the pillows. 

“She loves me,” Cordelia says, and plucks the first petal, peeking coquettishly at Sumia, who giggles. “She loves me not…” 

Sumia catches her cheek with a gentle hand, turning her head toward her. Cordelia leans in to kiss her again, a brush of lips that has her chest tingling with excitement. She could get used to this. 

Sumia’s eyes glow as Cordelia draws back and raises the flower, continuing to pluck the petals. The little white ovals flutter onto Cordelia’s lap and the dark blanket. 

Sumia reaches up and steals the last little petal from Cordelia. “She loves me.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I blame Shy for putting so much life into his artwork that I just had to write them (and many thanks for helping me with figuring out how to write meaningful fluff!). Also thanks to Unassumingvenusaur on tumblr for writing an amazing S-Support between these two – that’s where I got the idea for the “She loves me, she loves me not” bit.
> 
> I might have been reading too much into Cordelia’s supports, but I got an overwhelming sense from some of them that she bears such tremendous guilt whenever she does or says something wrong, and that she will just keep thinking about what she could have done until it paralyzes her, or someone knocks some sense into her.
> 
> Oh, and I felt like I needed to address the whole Chrom thing a bit. I’m not sure if I did that justice, but it felt strange to write Cordelia without bringing him up, as he is mentioned in most of her standard supports. There are people that you develop a crush on, that you will never truly get over, even though you know there can never be anything between you. They sort of define you… and I felt that Cordelia’s crush on Chrom defined her a bit. 
> 
> This story was loosely inspired by this artwork: http://f0ffff.tumblr.com/post/137435131546/flower-fortunes  
> And this Sumdelia S-Support: http://unassumingvenusaur.tumblr.com/post/137202141625/sumia-x-cordelia-sumdelia-s-support
> 
> Please let me know what you think, and thank you for reading!


End file.
